A Chromatic Soul
by Atrop1ne
Summary: When he is miraculously imbued with special powers from his Grandfather's necklace, a hard-headed construction worker named Vance is thrown into the middle of a war between two forces. Now caught in a world of deception, politics, murder, and powers which he cannot explain, he must decide: What do you fight for, and what makes one a hero? New Chapter every Saturday!
1. Prelude

PRELUDE

Stale bourbon, a hint of steel, and the worn-out smell of aged book leather wafted through the small office. Smooth, oak bookshelves lined the walls of the office, with a large television built into the wall. A rectangular, brown area rug resided in the absolute center of the room, sitting somewhat beneath a wooden desk. A dim desk lamp is the only illumination in the room, despite overhead lights apparently inset into the ceiling. The dull, pale light is highlighting the several objects spread across the table's surface: a manila folder, a glass of (what can be assumed to be) bourbon, and a thick, green journal. Low concert music is streaming through a wireless speaker from some blackened corner of the room, now that anyone in the base would ever know, nor hear it. Despite a cozy feel of the room due to the décor, the entire rectangular space was made of solid, sound-proof steel. No secrets escaped this room, and no one came in here…with the exception of one man. A large, calloused hand wraps around the spine of the green journal. In faded, scribbled ink, it reads: "Most People Will Simply Exist". The stocky man sits down at a desk in a darkened room. The only illumination is from a desk light beside him. Underneath the label of the spiral notepad reads: "Amulet Research". The man flips open the book to reveal sprawling lettering covering every square inch of the pad. He begins to read the notes.

"I have been ordered by the Department of Defense to assist the small government subsidiary known as SANCtUM in the research and development of items, henceforth known as amulets. Very little is known about these objects of great power, however, what we do know is simply extraordinary! The sad truth is that most people will never be anything more. They will simply exist. It is the cold, harsh truth of reality, and yet, something so insignificant as a screw, or a brick, can create induced evolution.

The first documented case of an amulet appearance was during the American-Indian wars, in the year 1926. A group of soldiers were huddled behind a makeshift building, their muskets standing tall beside them. A dark thunderstorm boomed above, ready to release its wrath. They had just finished doing maintenance on the weaponry when a sound rang out sharp from the nearby forest that made their blood run cold…a Native American war cry. One of them chronicled the events that occurred. Suddenly, the sky roared, and released the tidal wave of pouring rain, reaching out with arches of violent electricity. The ground became muddy and chaotic, with the men now sloshing around in dirt and filth. Supplies were scarce, so the men were weakened and frail, entirely unprepared for what was about to occur.

The truth is, just as most people will never be anything more, such is the same with objects. Once they are forged, they will be used, thrown out, and then forgotten. It is the sad fate of all things, living or not. However, once in a blue moon, an object will be forged, with a mind of its own. This object will be given sentience, "born" so to speak with a mind, and take on the attributes of an amulet. It may take days, months, years, decades, or centuries, but the amulet will forever search for its one true host.

With the floodgate finally unleashed…the forest parted, and a horde of Native American warriors charged forth at the encampment, their echoing war cries tearing through the storm itself, as if it were their own weapon. The men aimed their weapons, firing desperately at the oncoming attackers as the Indians approached, raising their tomahawks high. The muskets emptied, and the men lowered their bayonets, screamed, and charged forth to meet the oppressors on the field. The rain was coming down hard, and the men could barely see…barely speak…barely know where the enemy was. The man who wrote the chronicle was hiding, deep in cover behind a tent when he heard the rustle of leaves behind him. He turned around slowly, only to see war painted covered eyes, a tribal, dreamcatcher necklace, and a raised tomahawk above his head. He leapt forward, dodging the swipe of the attack, and the native man leapt on top of the soldier. The two began grappling, desperately attempting to gain control of the tomahawk. Suddenly, the soldier gets his arm underneath the native's neck, throwing him off and gaining control of the attack simultaneously. He raised the weapon high above the Native's head…and then saw something impossible. Here is the final passage from his writings.

"The Native spoke words in his tongue, and suddenly, the carving around his neck shone, as if it were the sun. His eyes…they were not human anymore. His skin became like iron, covered in hide. I only heard two words, as if they were in my head: Midnight Dreamcatcher. I brought down the tomahawk, but it broke in two upon the Native's head. I quickly pulled my sidearm and fired, but the bullet simply rebounded off the man. The Native spoke, and smoke flew from his hands. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. I grabbed the bullet that landed beside me, so that I would never forget as I ran back to the camp, but the Native followed me, spraying smoke where he walked, as if coals were beneath his feet. Then he simply left. We were left confused…until the plague set in. One by one, men started to develop rashes, bumps, blisters, and scabs. One by one, they succumbed. I am one of the last, but I fear my time is short. My skin is covered in blisters, and I find it harder to breathe daily. We won't survive this. We are all going to die."

The official report from the encampment states that they were overcome by a plague of smallpox…which, while not untrue, is only half of the story. This Midnight Dreamcatcher appears to be the first recorded amulet wielder. A Native American warrior, one who represented the same ideals as its own, revealed itself, forming a bond with the host, to become so much more."

The man closes the journal, then exhales a long sigh while rubbing his temples.

"How did things go so wrong…?"


	2. That Which Defines Us

Chapter 1: THAT WHICH DEFINES US

The year is now 2020. The sun is beaming down upon the people working at a construction site. A large sign reads "Avalon Apartment Villa." As one of the largest trading hubs on the East Coast, Avalon City continued to maintain its status as one of the top skylines in the United States. Towering skyscrapers lined the busy streets, and nearly every other block, some new and innovative construction project was being erected, constantly attempting to improve upon previous projects. The Villa was sanctioned in order to attempt to relieve some of the massive overpopulation issues plaguing the city, removing the fierce juxtaposition between the middle and working classes. The bottom half of the building has its concrete base in place, along with a solid framework of steel girders. Along the beams, construction works crawl like ants across the hot metal, attempting to build the future homes for dozens of families. Heat is radiating off the metallic surface of the beams, and heavy machinery and tumbleweeds litter the area. The air is dry, and tastes of sawdust and iron. Men are working at their respective roles on the site, the sounds of grunts and blowtorch flares echoing down the steel skeleton.

A worker walks towards one of the building's joints along one of the platforms, making sure to secure his harness to one of the nearby beams. He sits down towards the edge of the building, flips his mask down, and begins to weld the two pieces of metal together into a v-joint. As he leans in to get a closer look, a wrench wedged in his toolbelt slides out of its holster. He grabs for it, but misses as the wrench hurdles towards the ground, straight at another worker's bright, yellow helmet on the ground.

"Watch out!" he cries out.

The wrench is pummeling towards the man's head. Residing on the man's chest, something small and silver glints off the sun. The hairs on his arms stand up, and his skin begins to tingle.

Move…

As if shoved by an invisible force, the man leaps forward, landing flat on his stomach as the wrench collides with the ground. Brushing off his dusty, worn jeans, he takes off his helmet, and looks up. The man is in his late 20's. His dark brown hair is miraculously still styled into tall spikes after wearing a helmet, due to both hair gel and sweat. Dense chest muscles press against his tight white T-shirt, though his slight gut remains hovering over a leather strap made of spent bullet casings, passing as a belt, hanging loosely off his hips. Dangling around his neck, a bright, silver bullet is strung through by a thick wire. The bullet has no imperfections, and has two tiers, built like a rifle round from the 40's. Lying in between his pectoral muscles, it resides next to a name tag reading "Vance". A seemingly carefree complexion, complete with a wide grin at his impressive dodge as he mentally compliments himself quickly fades as the reality of the situation sets in. Jet black eyes snap upwards, and a fierce and wild look about his face scans the sky, looking for the source of the dropped tool become projectile. He frowns.

"Fantastic, let's start the day with a concussion," mutters Vance. "Hey, watch it up there!" he shouts. "Man, some idiot is always droppin' somethin' and making my day a pain."

A nearby coworker jogs over, examining Van. He exhales in relief.

"Those are some reflexes, Van," he says. "Glad you're alright. You play ball or somethin'?"

"Na, I just generally try not to die," replies Van. "I dunno, I don't think about it much. I just felt like…like I had to move, you know? My body just senses it."

"Yeah, we all know thinking aint your thing."

"Hey!...Shut up! I still get double the work done you do, old man!"

A woman appears from the main office. Her dark, brown hair is in a tight bun, hidden underneath her hard hat. Dark, brown eyes are a combination of anger and amusement upon eyeing Vance. Her tucked in, plaid blue, button-down top is sharply juxtaposed with the orange construction vest. Black pants appear nearly spotless, indicating that her role on the site requires little to no manual labor. In the crook of her arm, a clipboard with blueprints clipped in flap in the fierce wind, and she struggles to keep the papers in order. Her fingernails don't show a drop of polish, unsurprising for a construction yard. The woman's nametag reads "Sarah – Construction Manager".

"Except when actually doing your job it seems" she teases.

"I'm doin' my job...er...at least I'm about to," Van hastily replies.

She groaned. "Uh huh. And I told you, take off that necklace, it's a work hazard! And that ridiculous belt. What if it snags on something and you fall off a girder!? Then I have to pay the insurance deductible."

Lying against Van's white shirt, a stark contrast from the orange construction vest, he plays with the bullet necklace, rolling it in between his thumb and index finger. It glints in the sun. The metal is strangely cool on the boiling 102°F day. Van chuckles.

"And I thought I was important to you. I like this belt, it makes me feel cool! And the necklace…not happening. It's my good luck charm, family heirloom. Besides..."

He palms the bullet. It sits perfectly in his left hand's lifeline. "…it's the little things that make us who we are...reminds me that sometimes, all we need is just one, clean shot..."

Sarah arched her eyebrow. "Good luck? Didn't you say your ancestor died immediately after shooting that thing?"

Van winced, then scratched behind his head and looked upwards. "Well, yeah...he was nuts. Wrote in some diary. Something about shooting someone, they didn't die, kept it to remember, blah blah blah. I thought it was cool looking, made it into a necklace to remember him by. You never know what could be a good luck charm."

"That makes no sen..."

"If you'll excuse me, I'm workin'...VERY HARD mind you...on the top story. I have to do that one...thing...yeah."

Sarah sighs, and thuds her head into her palm. "I'll go with you. Where I need you today is..." With a beep, the elevator door closes, and Van is already gone, taking the elevator up to the top story. Sarah groans. "Headstrong idiot. He never waits for anything."

Within the elevator, Van talks to himself. He rolls the bullet necklace between his fingers. The elevator rattles, causing Van to stumble and steady himself on the wall. "No one appreciates me, I swear. Tryin' to tell me how to do my job. I've done this for a whole two months! Pretty sure that's more than enough. I need a drink."

The bullet necklace hangs limply across his shirt, cold and ominous in the fluorescent lighting of the elevator. Van exits the elevator, immediately putting up his hand as a sun visor to protect from the sudden brightness of the top story. With the framework mostly finished, and flooring installed across most of the landing, the current state of the building appeared to be an unfinished roof, providing an eagle's view of the city. Small sections of the corners remain skeletal, but the rest of the level Van is standing upon seems solid. He looks up at the structure of the next story above, first being constructed. The bar's lock in the top floor, making the entire area appear as a gladiator pit. His necklace glints off of the sun as he passes other workers, greeting them as he carefully walks along the platform. The other men grunt or wave in response, sweating and breathing heavily from the overbearing heat. Van grabs a welding mask and a blowtorch, equips the mask, and sits down at an unoccupied joint. He clicks the metallic clasp together to ignite the flame, then begins to weld. Howling wind glides along the steel girder, causing the flame to continually flicker towards his hands.

"Wind is damn strong today," Van thinks to himself, "and I swear, if this damn thing burns my finger off…" He hears a loud creaking noise and looks up, noticing a swaying crane. "…and that thing is gonna kill someone. Ideally not me."

The crane operator pulls a lever, and the enormous machine groans against the wind, moving the arm towards a wall, slowly lowering a steel beam into place. Creaking from the platform indicates that the load is rocking back and forth. One of the men shouts to another.

"Ey, you sure this is safe? Ain't we not s'pose ta operate in these conditions?"

The other worker responds with a shrug. "You're welcome to explain why we're behind schedule. It'll be fine. Besides, Rick secured it last night, right?"

"He was supposed to. I'm sure he did, it's fine."

Van looks over the edge of the building, nearly 30 stories tall.

"For having a view like this…man, you would think I'd be a bit more excited," he says aloud.

"Well, I'm quite sorry for your lack of entertainment at work," grunts Sarah, walking hastily up to Van from behind, "but unfortunately, it has to get done. Thanks for holding the elevator for me by the way. Do you know how long it takes to go up and down 30 stories?"

Van swallows hard and takes a step back, stepping onto the power cord attached to the welding torch. "Uh. Is this a test question or should I answer it? I feel like regardless of my answer, it's probably wrong."

"Good guess."

The cable snags, ripping the tool from Van's fingers. It swings harmlessly in between a group of relaxing workers a floor below before clunking into a nearby support column. The workers on the floor below leap out of the way of the dangling tool, and angrily shout vulgarities while throwing miscellaneous objects at Van. He sheepishly scratches his helmet and shrugs at them, then sighs.

"I just get bored with life sometimes. It moves so slow. Nothing interesting ever happens. Sometimes, I just wish something...extraordinary would happen, ya know?"

Across the world, somewhere in New Delhi, India, the night seems quiet. Suddenly, a loud clanking rings out. A person in reflective, brown armor is running as fast as they can, breathing heavily. They look over their shoulder frantically, then continue running through the stone city.

Back at the construction site, Sarah approaches Van, aggressively. She crosses her arms, and leans on one leg. Van groans and rolls his eyes.

"You have got to slow down, Van" Sarah snaps, "you are going to get yourself into trouble if you keep diving headfirst into situations without thinking. Vance, you have no degree, and minimal certifications. You've switched jobs nearly every other month. When are you going to find a goal worth sticking around for? You need to find something to devote yourself to, or you will never be satisfied with your life." She picks up another torch and hands it to him. He grabs it aggressively. Sarah groans. Van sticks out his tongue at her. "Oh grow up. Take your time and focus, plan your next move. Don't just go off impulse all the time. You're going to kill someone."

Van's necklace flashes, almost defensively. Faint whispers breeze past Van's ear. His head snaps around, looking for the source, then shakes his head.

"Hey, it works for me!" Van says defensively. "Well, not the killing thing, that's messed up. But moving without thinking is how to keep…alive. Besides, that's why you can't stay away from me."

He remarks with a grin, then winks. She snickers, but her lips turn into a faint smirk.

Back in India, the metallic woman turns a corner at a skid, sparks erupting from her boots. She nearly tumbles over a raised root, when suddenly, flame erupts in front of her. She skids to a stop. The stone walls beside and behind her shift. She looks around, clearly terrified, and the walls elongate and move, closing her in a circular stone prison. Hundreds of dense, metallic cables arc into the air, closing off the sky above her. The woman says something in Hindi that sounds like a swear.

Meanwhile, back at the site, the crane looms overhead to drop off another load of beams. The worker standing on the top story is waving his arms frantically at the operator.

"Hey!" he yells into a walkie talkie. "Raise the boom, it's too low! You're tilting!"

Static cackles over the receiver.

"Hello?" asks the worker, "work you damn piece of shit!"

"I hate that thing," Sarah exclaims, "and the boom looks way too low..."

"Right!?" remarks Van. "Now THAT thing is totally gonna kill..."

The wind howls suddenly, a shrill banshee's cry rings out when it glides along the steel skeleton of the building, swinging the beams. The turntable rocks, causing the crane's arm to groan in protest, rocking downwards, despite the frantic pulling of the operator on the levers. Van's necklace flashes, and his skin begins to tingle. The entire arm of the crane begins to tilt uncontrollably in the wind. The wiring holding the beams in place twitches, and one by one, the beams begin to slide out of their holsters, colliding into the metallic framework of the structure with resounding, metallic blows. The powerful vibration rings out along the metallic frame of the building, causing all the workers to scream and hold their ears. The metal beams ricochet down the structure, nearly killing workers as it careens towards the ground. Workers dive out of the way as the beams crush into the pavement floor, shattering the concrete upon impact. A beam falls directly towards Sarah, who is looking down, covering her head. Van's eyes widen and he leaps towards her.

"Look out!" Van screamed.

He shoves Sarah off to the side, just as the beam collides in between them, separating them. The necklace flashes. A beam lands on Sarah's leg with a loud crunch. She screams in pain, and her pant leg is sticking out at an unusual angle.

"Van, help…me…!" Sarah says, weakly.

"Hang on, Sarah!"

The other workers are diving out of the way, desperately attempting to get down the collapsing and wobbling building via the elevator. The top four floors of the structure are collapsing, the beams toppling over like dominoes.

"This…is the opposite of good." Says Van to himself.

"VAN!" roars Sarah.

"Falling building, I know, I got it!"

Van leaps back to dodge another pillar, and rolls across the floor, narrowly evading a lashing cable. He hears the wind whistle as it rips through the air inches above his head, his hair swishing as the cable breezes narrowly by. Van runs over to Sarah on the other platform, leaping over wires and beams. His shoe snares on an errant wire, smashing him into the floor. He swears, then gets up, and takes a good look at her. She looks terrible. Her skin is paled from the damage, and she is sweating profusely, her hair plastered to her forehead. She winces in pain, uselessly clutching her leg, panting heavily.

"Hurry…" she pleads.

Her voice is getting weaker. She is turning pale, having lost a lot of blood.

"I'm almost there, hang on Sarah! I'll get this off you in no time!"

He grips the beam with both hands, shoulders, back, and arms straining, trying to lift it with all his might, but to no avail.

"Okay, maybe a little time.

"Oh no..."

"Damn…listen, I'm trying the best that I…"

Van suddenly notices Sarah's eyes, following her gaze, and looks to the right. Hurdling back towards them, the cargo rig from the crane is on a collision course with their position. In its weakened state, the remaining support beams begin to rattle, as if sensing the upcoming catastrophe. The bullet necklace begins to hum, and Van's skin tingles.

"Oh…that sucks."

"I...I..." Sarah desperately tries to speak, but is cut off. Hitting with the force of a car accident, the rig collides with the remains of the building's framework, shaking it as if an earthquake were beneath the structure. The remaining beams launch in all directions, including the one pinning Sarah, sending her flying through the sky. Soaring through the air, she looks up just in time to see Van leaping from his safe vantage point towards her.

"Are…are…ARE YOU AN IDIOT!?" She screams. "N…now you're g…gonna die too!"

"Oh shit, I hope not! Why the hell did I jump!?" he retorts. He grips her hand tightly.

"I guess we die together!"

Sarah, watery eyed, just stares at him.

"I'm sorry Van...I'm sorry."

Dark pavement below rapidly approaches the falling pair.

"I'm dead...I'm so dead...why did I jump!?" Van thinks frantically. "My body just...moved! I can't believe this...and Sarah, she just keeps staring at me...and all I can do is hold her hand..."

50 feet from the ground and closing, time seems to slow to a virtual halt. A voice like a whisper enters into Van's mind, seemingly from nowhere at all. The bullet necklace is glowing and humming, lashing violently in the wind. Emanating from the necklace itself, the voice whispers directly into Van's brain, almost as a thought.

Impulse...

"Uh...God?" Van asks, clearly a combination of curious and petrified.

Necklace...bullet...

"Yep, I lost it. Or I'm dead. Both downers."

You...impulse...host...combine...survive...

"Whatever you can do, dude, do it now!"

The bullet necklace drifts towards Van's chest and whispers one word. The phrase slams into Van's head, and he clutches at his head as if it were just struck.

Name...!

Van grabs the bullet so tightly his veins poke out of his hand.

"Man, I don't even know the name of half the chicks I sleep with, let alone your na..."

The amulet hums, and begins to slightly glow. A warmth resonates across Van's chest, and his eyes go wide. A whisper echoes across his ears, and the hair on his arms and neck stand up, crackling with static electricity.

"Just one, clean shot...Silver Bullet..."

Time returns to normal, and Van and Sarah continue their rapid descent. The bullet begins to glow brightly, Van's eyes go wide, and he screams. He rears back, and grabs his head, as if in extraordinary pain. His eyes and mouth burst with brilliant light, and lines of light streak down his face, torso, arms, and legs, glowing brightly. The same unnatural glow encases both him and Sarah. From the glowing lines, silver metal begins to creep across Van's skin. As they near the ground, people scream and back up, preparing for the impact. Many turn away, but most stare on in horror. Suddenly, out of the light, a flying suit of armor emerges, holding Sarah, swoops in and lands heavily on the floor. The armor is tinted a metallic silver, with a very aerodynamic design. Large airfoils jut out the back, with a sleek, swept back helmet to slice through the air. The Silver Bullet puts Sarah on the ground, the woman in a mixed state of shock and awe, and crawls backwards. Bullet stands up and stares at his hands in wonder.

"Hell. Yes."

Meanwhile, a nearby civilian wearing a bandanna talks into a cell phone.

"Sir! Avalon City! A new wielder just appeared!" screams the man into his phone.

Back in India, a bloody armor is lying on the floor, and a near shapeless armor is walking away from it. Light encases the armor on the floor to reveal a heavily damaged woman's body. Her limbs and bones are all pointed in unnatural angles, and she is not breathing.

"I see," says the armored man.

He lifts a bracelet up to his face, it has droplets of blood on it. The bracelet quickly flashes.

"I will be back tomorrow and investigate." He says authoritatively. "Find out anything you can on this new wielder. Every amulet could hold the information I seek. Let's hope this one is more...nonpartisan. You know I loathe violence."


	3. Locked and Loaded

LOCKED AND LOADED

Van, now cloaked in the Silver Bullet armor, is examining his body. The metal plates lining his palms clink off of one another as he clenches and reopens them, testing his mobility. Large blades stick out from the ulnar side of his forearm, and he rotates his arms to take a look. A shrill whistle cuts through Van's eardrums as the blade gracefully slides through the air, seemingly slicing it in two. Stretching his neck as far as possible, he twists his head to check out his back. Airfoils extending from either side of his shoulder blades block his vision, and out of curiosity, he thrusts out his butt to check it out. Within the armor, Van's mouth is agape in shock as he tries to process what is going on.

"Even my…uh…parts are armored?" questions Bullet. "What...the hell...is this!?"

Together...one...impulse. Forever...Silver Bullet...

"...neat…thanks disembodied voice."

A loud grinding noise snaps Bullet out of his daze, and his eyes rapidly shift upwards. Enormous slabs of debris from the building are rapidly hurdling towards the gathered crowd. No one is paying attention, all focused on the gleaming, metallic knight in front of them. Van's eyes go wide in realization.

Move...

"I can't! There are people here! Everyone, run! Please!"

Attack...

"Huh? How do I attack?"

With his fist pointed at the ground, he clenches his hand. Van's right arm opens to reveal a metal plate, which slides over his fist. Thrusters within the forearm armor roar to life, gleaming with a bright, green aura. His right arm rockets straight into the ground, his body following suit. He screams in pain.

"Arghh, damnit!"

Aim...

"No kidding!"

He quickly pushes himself up from the shattered concrete, and shakes himself off. The armor still appears undamaged, and the remaining gravel falls off of the plates.

"Thanks for telling me that AFTER! Okay, round two!"

Van aims his right arm at the falling beam, and clenches his fist. The thrusters roar to life once again. A pop is heard as Bullet disappears in a flash of speed, and a pulse of air ejects as the sound barrier breaks. The windows nearby on both cars and buildings alike explode outwards. Bullet launches at the beam, his fist colliding with it, sending it back into the falling building, causing the rest of the debris to fall harmlessly to the other side. He notices another falling beam, and repeats the attack, firing it into a nearby car, away from the pedestrians. Bullet is idly hovering, examining his right arm.

"Okay, that I can get used to. Wait, hell yeah, I'm flying!"

He wiggles his feet in mid-air beneath him.

"Cool."

Slipping...away...one...together...impulse…

"No, don't go!"

Hibernate...regenerate...forever...Silver Bullet.

In the distance, the ambulance is approaching for Sarah, the workers, and any injured pedestrians. Sarah is still on the floor, unmoving, clearly in severe shock. Bullet looks down at her, then shoots off into the sky. Everyone nearby is staring wide-eyed at the events that just occurred.

Far away, in a military-looking compound, a technician is surfing on the internet, watching live news feeds on six different screens. It is talking about a war over in Asia, against the U.S. The newscast is in Mandarin, but the teleprompter reads in English subtitles at the bottom of the screen: "Death toll rises with U.S. interference in Chinese Weapons Shipment. Arson outbreaks rampant in Tokyo." Suddenly, a breaking news feed runs across the screen of the bottom, middle screen. The picture reveals the crane collapse.

"Uh, sir?" the technician says hesitantly. "There are reports of a man in a suit of armor saving civilians from a disastrous crane collapse."

In the back corner of the room, a clean-cut man is doing a Sudoku puzzle. His short, dark chocolate brown hair is styled forward, and neatly combed as best as the waves allow. Taut muscles stretch the fabric of his grey t-shirt, and several faded scars appear to grace his forearms and biceps. A sharp jawline leads into narrow, focused eyes, with furrowed eyebrows as he scans the screen. The puzzle is nearly completed, with the difficulty reading 5-stars, and a nearby timer reads 00:00:45. On his right hand is a black, fingerless glove, with a red, brightly polished, metallic star object inlaid into the material.

"So…" the man says. He sounds intrigued. "A new wielder, huh?"

He stands up, places the puzzle down, and walks over to the monitors. The technician clicks a button on a remote, changing all six screens to the scene of the construction site.

The clean-cut man grunts. "Leave it to a large group of civs to play on their phones all day, yet when something incredible happens, not one of them can record or take a picture of it."

"Like Bigfoot," chimes in the technician. The man rolls his eyes at the technician, then lets out a long sigh, and rubs the area between his eyes. Looking back up at the screens, his eyes narrow, like a hawk that just spotted its prey.

"Check the roster of everyone that was working that construction site. More likely than not, it was one of the workers caught in the wreckage. The amulets are triggered by danger. Also, the collapse happened at 3:45pm, so exclude all morning shift workers. Zoom in on the locker area, and focus on the worker's necks and wrists. Find any pictures of them you can, look for any accessories that stand out to you."

"Will do," says the man at the computer, almost too enthusiastically.

"You really need to lay off the espresso."

"Yeah sorry, my sleep schedule has been a mess lately."


	4. Reflections

REFLECTIONS

Van is at a bar, drinking a dark beer with a solid inch of foam atop, and playing around with his necklace. He takes a deep sip, and wipes the foam off of his lip. He looks up at the bar's neon sign, which reads: " 's Bar and Grill". He turns to the bartender. She is a middle-aged woman, with a large tattoo across her chest, and tattoos completely covering both arms.

"Hey, question!" says Van. "What the hell is the name of this place anyway? I've been coming here for years, and that sign is always broken. Also, why does it say bar and grill, when you don't serve food?"

The lady groans, and rolls her eyes.

"Listen, pal," she snaps. "If you're gonna hit on me, you need a better line than that. I don't hook up with every pretty boy that walks in here."

She returns to polishing her beer mugs, leaving Van tight-lipped. He blinks, then bursts out laughing, taking another large sip from his mug.

"So…" he says aloud. "I'm the Silv…right, can't say it. I'm the Bullet. I wonder if there's anyone else like me? Guess I can worry about that while I freaking FLY! No laws about flying under the influence, hell yeah!

He leaves money on the counter, and runs into an alleyway on the side of the bar. He grabs his necklace. It begins to hum with power, gently vibrating in his hand.

"Let's do this!" he screams, excitedly. "Silver Bullet!"

Once again, his eyes burst with light, and the transformation happens, quickly encasing him in the Bullet armor. He takes a few steps, then takes off running down the alley.

"Alright! Now, fly!"

He leaps forward, arms out, and lands in a belly flop on the street. He doesn't move for a few moments, the wind howling in the alley mockingly.

"Let me guess, crickets are next? What the hell happened?"

Thinking back, the last words of the amulet ring in his head.

"Impulse…I'm impulsive."

He looks upwards at the metallic fire escape on the outside of the next building over, and begins the climb up to the roof of the three story apartment. He briefly steps over the ledge, then looks down, and gulps.

"Ooh I really hope this works, or this is really, really damn stupid."

He exhales, crouches, and leaps off the building. He screams as he comes within 10 feet of the ground before suddenly, the jets activate, and he blasts forward into the building on the other side of the street. He shoots down the street, flying disoriented, bursting from side to side jerkily. The glowing, silver armor flies straight into the wall of another building, skidding his face along the brick as he flies upwards over the building, sparks lighting up the darkened sky. Finally, he gets into the sky and reorients himself.

"Ahah! I'm flying! Whoo!"

He rips through a cloud, flying aimlessly around in the night's sky. The next day, Van is walking on a sidewalk, playing with his amulet.

"This is still so surreal. I have a magic suit of armor, that I can use to fly. That still sounds ridiculous. I can so use this to get laid, haha, awesome. And I can't stop touching. Which is somewhat weird. And people are staring. I also need to stop talking to myself."

Suddenly, across the street, the front windows of the convenience store burst outwards in a storm of glass, a large object thrown through one of the windows. Two men in masks run in opposite directions, carrying backpacks, while the store owner runs out after them, screaming and shaking his fist aggressively.

"Sucks for that place...oh! I can catch him! Then I'll be a hero! Silver Bullet!"

The man is running when a bright flash catches his eye, the air shimmers in front of him, and Bullet flashes into existence.

"Halt, evil-doer!" he says authoritatively, lowering his voice. "I am the Silver Bullet."

The armor flashes, then powers down, dropping Van on his back on the sidewalk.

"Oh son-of-a-bitch that's annoying." He groans.

"Shit, SANCtUM!" the robber says panicky.

"What? No, Bullet dude, you don't listen well."

"You mean to tell me that you're not with Star and them?"

"Uh...no? I guess? Now, drop the bag! Don't make me use my magic armor on you!"

He wiggles his hands. The robber rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms.

"It's not magic, jackass. It's an amulet." The robber says. Van's jaw drops.

Van looks as if he's lost for words. "How...screw it, you obviously know what it is, no point in hidin' it, do you have one too!?"

"Hah! I like you." Says the robber. "You avoid pointless bullshit and get right to the point. Yeah, I do have one."

He takes off his mask. He runs his fingers through his long, dirty blonde hair, and shakes it. His face is perfectly chiseled, and he has a deep tan.

"Sorry, it's stuffy in there," the robber says, "and I didn't want to deprive you of the opportunity to see that which is perfection, the perfect combination of man and machine!"

"Cool…great face? I'm really not into guys if that's what you're implying." Van says.

"You dare mock me!?" he says offended. "I am the perfect wielder. If you do not respect me, you don't deserve that power! I look like a Greek god compared to your crude, ogre self! There is only one other in this world that deserves that title."

"You took that SO past where I was comfortable listening," says Van. "Look, if this is a "your mom" joke of some kind..."

The man pulls a small mirror out of his pocket. It looks to be made out of faded, rusted bronze. There is a symbol of a man staring in a mirror on the lid, resembling that of Narcissus. The bottom half of the mirror is broken off, and the other end is attached to a chain, which seems to be connected to the man's pants. He grips it tightly, and it begins to softly glow.

"Ecru Mirror!" he screams. Van leaps back to avoid being engulfed in the light. The same transformation that occurs to Van happens to the robber, and the Mirror armor appears from the walk. He walks out of the light gently, arms outwards, as if on a catwalk and posing.

"How dare you mock my perfection!" he says angrily. "Is my armor not…statue-esque?"

"Whoa...what can your suit do!? This is very cool." Van says excitedly, clearly not worried at all.

"Cool?" Mirror asks. He snaps in Van's face. "Hey, focus here, I'm fighting you."

"Why? That's dumb." Van states.

"What?" Mirror asks, clearly perplexed. "Because I...screw it."

He aims his right hand in the air at the sun. Dozens of dark solar panels in his palm and forearm glow, seemingly soaking in the sunlight. His other arm aims at Van, and with a sizzling noise of the air superheating, a boiling wave of solar heat fires out towards Van. Without a second's hesitation, Van dives to the floor, dodging the beam.

"Heh, you're quick!" remarks Mirror.

Van smirks, then grabs his amulet.

"Not yet I'm not. Silver Bullet!"

His skin encases in the armor.


	5. Mirror rorriM

MIRROR | RORRIM

Mirror looks Bullet up and down, then grunts.

"That's your armor?" sneers Mirror , no attempt at hiding the blatant condescension. "It's so...thin and flimsy."

"You're thin and flimsy!" Bullet retorts proudly.

"What are you, five? You waste our time."

"Our?"

Solar energy once again begins to absorb within Mirror's gauntlet as he powers up another attack. Super-heated air ripples as another shot spews from his palm at Bullet, missing as he boosts upwards into the air. Mirror takes a step back and barks out a laugh.

"You can fly!?" he asks rhetorically. "Ahah, how fascinating! I've never seen a flier before."

"And I've never seen…" Bullet starts to speak when Mirror interrupts him.

"What!?" shouts Mirror, putting his hand to where his ear would be. "I can't hear you! You're too far away, and your thrusters are loud!"

"Oh, sorry!" Bullet apologizes, realizing he still can't hear him. His thrusters dim, and he slowly approaches at low power. "I was saying, and I've never seen a guy so obsessed with himself, he covered his body in mirrors, so guess we're even."

"Oh, I guess it lost the effect when you had to repeat it."

"Yeah."

"Well, regardless, you can't beat me! You're new, and I'm experienced. Tell you what. Surrender your amulet to me, and we shall leave. Besides, those who look like me shouldn't be seen with people such as…well, you get the idea."

"What's that supposed to mean, dick!?" Bullet screams, when suddenly, a searing pain in his back violently jerks his body forward as a beam of heat collides with his armor. The top layer of metal begins to melt off, sliding down the silver metal to the pavement below. Bullet rapidly whips around, arms cocked, to see Mirror standing atop a roof before him.

"Huh?" Bullet wonders. He looks back at where Mirror was a second ago, but he is gone. "What the hell? Whatever."

He looks back at Mirror on the building.

"You can't beat me!" Mirror screams. "If you give me your amulet, we will leave!"

"Yeah yeah, you already said that." Bullet responds, clearly getting annoyed. He brings his arm back.

"Did I?" asks Mirror. "My mistake."

Suddenly, Mirror's body shimmers, and another Mirror appears in the air behind Bullet. He throws his body into a punch, but Bullet rolls to the side, then twirls around to swipe at Mirror, but he is already gone. Another Mirror on a nearby rooftop aims his arm at Bullet, who crosses his arms to defend himself. However, when the flare hits, it goes right through him, causing no damage whatsoever.

"How hammered am I?" asks Bullet. "Are you a ghost?"

A searing pain in his back causes Bullet to scream as a flare hits him from behind. He looks down and sees Mirror dive behind a wall. As Bullet tilts his body to chase after him, another flare hits Bullet from the side. He grabs the side of his torso. The armor there is scorched. Within the armor, his skin is slightly charred from the attack. Mirror is on the street, firing at him. Bullet is rapidly dodging and weaving in the sky, desperately avoiding the attacks.

"How is he everywhere at once!?" Bullet thinks to himself. "Screw this, I'll take em all out!"

He screams, then throws his whole body into a punch, aiming his right arm at the one on the building. The rockets ignite, and suddenly, Bullet is on the other side of the building, having punched right through Mirror, as well as the building. He shakes the debris off of his body, then looks around, thoroughly confused.

"Damn I'm fast." Bullet thinks. "Okay, if I've got this right, as long as I throw myself into the attack, it just follows where my arm is pointing. I just go faster than I can see. Figuring this out slowly. Necklace, if you're there, don't judge me, you're a dick for leaving."

"You're fast!" Mirror remarks. "My armor clocked you at Mach 1. You broke the sound barrier."

"Stop, you're making me blush." Bullet comments sarcastically.

He brings both hands to his cheeks, mockingly. Three Mirror's appear around Bullet, to which he shoots into the sky, then twists around to take a look. At which point, a Mirror on the building leaps onto Bullet, dragging him down to the street. Another Mirror runs over and starts punching and kneeing Bullet while the first Mirror holds him down. Cop cars begin to arrive.

"You drones should know better by now. Last time we met, I said stay out of my business!" Mirror roars.

He raises his arm, and fires a shot at the cop car, ripping through the entire middle of the vehicle. Both cops within scream before half of their bodies are vaporized.

"These fools, they never learn." Mirror says, almost excitedly. "They should have respected my wishes."

"You…you just killed those cops!" Bullet yells, panicked. "Oh shit, this isn't a joke. What have I gotten into!? I can't move! Let me go, let me go! I want out! Somebody, help"

In a nearby alleyway, a red-tinted armored man is speaking out loud, watching the entire fight occur. His body is hidden by the shadows of the alleyway. All that is visible is the symbol on his forearm armor: a red, five-pointed star.

"Commander..." the man says. "We found him. He's being attacked by the Ecru Mirror. I want to help, but it's your call. How should I proceed?"

"Assist him." Responds a voice through his helmet. "You are cleared for lethal action if necessary. I am tired of Mirror's casualties and illusions."

"Roger that, sir!" responds the man.

His raises his arm, and opens his hand so that his open palm is facing downwards. Within the star on his arm seems to be a wrist-mounted turret. The barrel begins to glow red hot, and the air around the weapon begins to waver Two searing, red lasers burns through the attacking Mirror's shoulder, and the pinning Mirror's elbow respectively. Both attacked drop to the ground, taken clearly be surprise. Bullet quickly shoots into the air without taking a second to process what's going on, and looks at his savior. The red wielder walks into the sunlight. His helmet is swept back, similar to Bullet's, but in the shape of an elongated six pointed star. There are several jagged points along his body. On his back and torso is a large, four-pointed star shape, with segmented arms that wrap around his ribs and shoulders. Each forearm has the star shaped gauntlets, as well as his greaves and boots. On the back of each calf is a very long spike that touches the ground. Steam rises from the ground wherever he takes a step, and it seems to seep out of the cracks in his armor, as well as the vents in his mask.

"Oh god damnit, what now!?" Bullet roars in frustration. "Who are you!? If you start talking about your looks too I swear…"

"Oh shit, oh shit," one of the Mirror cries. "Star is here!"

"So I'm guessing you're Star," Bullet says. "I'm smart like that. Nice to meet you, see ya!"

"Wait one moment, please!" Star says softly. It sounds more like a request than an order. "Please, I won't waste much of your time, and I figure you have a few questions that I am willing to answer for the most part. We can talk right here if you'd like."

"Well, there's currently a dude who IS trying to kill me right here" says Bullet. "So I really don't think that's the best idea."

"Leave him to me," says Star, his voice gaining an edge of authoritative clarity. "I've grown tired of your projections, Mirrors. The both of you are coming with me, and there will be no resistance, or I will react. I do not want to kill you, so please, armor down and surrender. You won't be harmed."

"Wait, both?" Bullet asks.

"They're twins with identical personalities that both touch the amulet," responds Star. "That's how he can be in two places at once. The rest that you see are just projections from refracted light, similar to how a rainbow is formed."

"...yeah that was my guess too." Star grunts.

"I'm sure. Where did the second one go?"

Star's body twitches in reaction to the loud footsteps of Mirror 1 running up behind Star putting him into a full nelson headlock. Star's head is forced down, and he grunts in frustration, clenching his fists, and relaxing his body. Mirror 2 runs at Star, firing flares at him, which seem to be doing no damage. In fact, with each impact, Star's armor seems to glow, as if it is absorbing the heat energy. As Mirror 2 gets ready to throw a punch, Star leans backward, and kicks up his leg. The spike on the back of his calf impales Mirror 2's head from the underside, killing him on impact.

"Holy shit!" screams Bullet, and he grabs his head.

"NO!" screams Mirror 1.

He drops to his knees and slams his fists into the ground, creating small holes.

"I'm sorry to have to do that." apologizes Star. "You've killed several dozen civilians, and the moment you attacked me, I had to defend myself. I offered you a non-violent alternative. You blatantly refused, and dealing with those I deal with, I don't play nice and draw out a battle when civilian lives are at risk."

He looks left, and waves his arm at the crowd of onlookers forming. He looks around for Bullet, then looks upwards. He makes a noise, as if approving that Bullet is still present.

"I'LL KILL YOU, YOU SANCTUM SON OF A BITCH!" roars Mirror.

Star drops his bodyweight, breaking free of Mirror 1's hold, and reverses it, putting him into a full nelson. He then puts his legs in front of Mirror's, utilizing the small, jagged spines along his legs to ensnare Mirror's legs, completely immobilizing his body.

"Armor down!" orders Star. "You're finished!"

"Eat shit!" screams Mirror. "I'm gonna refract the sunlight across the whole block. Dodge that!"

His armor begins to glow, soaking in an enormous amount of sunlight. Bullet covers his eyes, as the radiating energy is blinding. The nearby civilians also do the same, some hiding behind doors or cars to shield their eyes from the overbearing light. Star sighs, sadly, then his eye lenses flash white. Star's armor opens up at its seams, pulsing heat seeping out from in between. His entire body ignites with incinerating heat. Any nearby vehicles met within seconds, and nearby shop windows all warp, melted moments later as well. Star looks upward, his eyes glow bright white, and smoke pours from the vents covering his mouth. Mirror 1 screams and turns to ash. Star is still standing there after the attack, the ash blowing away in the wind. He clenches his fists sighs, and looks downwards. He looks up at Bullet.

"I had no choice. He was going to eradicate everyone here." Star says remorsefully.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!?" screams Bullet. He sounds even more panicked than before. "You're all nuts! No way, no way! Screw this. Screw him. Screw you. I'm outta here!"

Star runs towards him, waving his hand.

"Wait!" he yells, but it is too late.

With a pop, Bullet's body disappears into the sky, a ring from the popped sound barrier briefly remaining imprinted on the rising smoke from Star's vicious attack.

A few blocks down, a very tall, and lanky man, wearing glasses, looks up to see Bullet zip by.

Meanwhile, Star wanders behind an alleyway, talking into his unseen headset once more.

"What was I supposed to do, Urchin!?" he asks, clearly angry and frustrated.

The voice of a calm, British woman responds.

"You really are not skilled with people, are you John? A frightened animal cannot be soothed by running at it, screaming and flailing."

"I was only trying to help him." Star says. "He needed to know what he stumbled into, that's all."

"He's a civilian, John." She says in her smooth, English accent. "This is all overwhelming to him. You need to be able to place yourself behind his eyes."

"I'm not a kindergarten teacher, Urchin." Star says, aggressively but respectfully. "He's seen the violence these suits are capable of. I don't wanna hide what he can do. Whether he's stumbled into this or not, the fact is, he's a part of our world now. I feel sorry for him, but I also don't want to lie and say it'll be all fun and rainbows."

"True, however, you should know as well as anyone the cost of hasty decisions."

"That was NOT my dec…sigh, you're right. I'm just tense from the fight I guess. You know how I hate when I have to make that call. Let's go report to the Commander."

"Just come back to base for now. I'll order recon on the Silver Bullet, and we will deal with him when the time is right. You did what you could, it's alright."

"Alright. Check first in large, open fields. If I were him, I'd be learning how to properly use my attacks in order to defend myself. It's the intelligent thing to do, and he seems like a clever man. We both know what kind of people inhabit this world."


	6. Loose Cannon

*Sorry for the delay! Thanksgiving chaos and all of the following. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy! And any questions or criticisms, by all means, feel free to message me*

LOOSE CANNON

The night is dead silent, and the dull lights in the parking lot illuminate seemingly random parking spots. The lights nearest to the back, right corner of the lot begin to flicker, slowly at first, then rapidly. A man sprints across the pavement, breathing heavily. He looks panicked, and checks over his shoulder. His foot slides out from underneath him, and he skids along the ground, quickly getting up and running again. One by one, the lights start to burst, and the man stops in the center of the lot. The six lights surrounding him are the only ones remaining in the entire lot, and the man walks in a circle. He is clearly terrified, and sweating profusely.

"Show yourself!" he screams. His voice cracks.

The final lights turn off, something large moves quickly, a resonating thump hits the ground, and a loud scream is heard.

Meanwhile, Van is drinking at the "S" bar. The bar is vacant aside from Van, and the bartender seems to be making the effort to avoid him. His hands are shaking as he takes another sip of beer. His eyes are wide.

"What the HELL was that!?" Van thinks to himself. "I don't wanna be in some crazy war. I just wanna fly in badass armor."

A tall, young, lanky man, wearing thick-framed glasses enters the bar. He appears to be in his late 20's, however, his demeanor and posture suggest a more mature personality, along with his dated clothing style of a beige colored sweater, with a black vest atop it. The vest is strange looking, with six pockets on both the front and back. He looks around the bar, notices Van, and softly smiles. He quickly takes off his glasses, polishing them on his shirt hem, puts them back on, and walks over. When he nears Van, he places his large hand on Van's shoulder.

"Hello sir, my name is..." The man begins.

Van snaps around and swings his fist directly into the man's jaw, knocking him violently to the floor. The man starts coughing ferociously, clutching his chest. He coughs up some blood.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry man!" Van says.

"It is entirely alright." The man says, the coughing subsiding. "You seemed quite tense, my apologies for the surprise."

Van helps the man to his feet.

"I am sorry for what you have been through, and I am glad I was able to help you relieve some of that which troubles you." He says, very tranquilly.

Van's eyes go wide, and he takes a few steps back.

"No no no, this isn't happening" he states. "You're one of them too, aren't you!? Damnit!"

"I do not want to lie to you" the man says, "but the answer is complicated. I am not going to attack you or anything of the sort. I am too frail to anyway. I have a disorder known as Marfan's Syndrome. My body is very weak, and cannot take much punishment, so I became a pacifist. I despise violence and pain."

"I already told that fire dude that I'm not gettin' caught up in your crazy ass war! Leave me outta this!"

"You saw Star!? Is he...alright?"

"So Star's his name, huh? Yeah, your boyfriend's alright…if you consider alright to be burning the living bejesus out that mirror guy!"

The man smiles with just his lips, and closes his eyes, as if he is thankful.

"So he is alive! Thank goodness. He is not my boyfriend, he is my best friend. As hard as this is to believe, he must have been in a situation where that was necessary. Star is the last person one would call cold-blooded, pun unintentional. I am no recruiter or anything of the sort, I actually somewhat got fired quite a while ago. I just know the experience is terrifying, and would like to help you come to terms with what may be occurring so you do not go around accidentally killing innocent people."

"I'm not gonna kill anyone. If they're in trouble, and in the area, sure, I'll swing by, save the falling damsel, and then get her number. Obviously. But I'm no hero or anything, I'm just not a dick."

"So you are not the least bit curious about your amulet? How it spoke to you? How to develop your armor?"

"...what do you mean develop?"

The man smiles again.

"You know," begins Van. "It's really creepy how often you smile."

The man laughs. It is a soft laugh.

"I enjoy smiling. It means that I am happy. The explanation is not a conversation for a bar. Here is my number. Call me if you wish, and if not, no hard feelings. My name is Adam. It has been a pleasure speaking with you."

"You do realize that it would be nuts to trust you right?" Van says.

Adam shrugs. "I suppose, but sometimes, I prefer to have a little faith in the good of man."

Van chugs his beer, throws some bills on the bar top, and then stands up.

"Alright, that was too gay to be a bad guy line." Van says. "I'm ready. Teach me, Marlin's fan."

"It is Marfan's" Adam corrects him. "…and right now? You do not want to sleep on...?"

"Waiting's a waste of time, let's roll. If you're gonna kill me, might as well get it over with now. Hey lady, tab's on the counter! By the way, sweet vest dude."

Adam smirks.

"I think you mean, sweet amulet."

They walk outside together. A Latin man's voice cuts through the air. His voice sounds young, but dangerous.

"Going to trick another one into dying for your pointless cause, hombre gigante?" the man's voice hisses.

Out of the hidden corner of the building, a man is leaning against a wall. Barely any parts of him are visible, with only his left arm sticking out distinctively. It has a much defined tattoo of a serpent, with its fangs digging into his chest.

"What is with you people and lurking?" Van asks.

"Excuse me sir, have we met?" Adam questions, with honest curiosity.

"You seem to have excluded the fact that you are in league with the murderous flame wielder." The snake man says angrily.

"On the contrary" Adam counters, "I have been upfront and said that he is my best friend. However, we do not work together currently. Now I must ask again. Who are you?"

"Estos heavones muy loco, pendejo. You listen to him huevon, and you will end up in a nice grave."

Van interjects. "Okay pal, first off, failed high school Spanish here, so I can barely understand what you're saying, just somethin about eggs. All I know is up until about an hour ago, I was fine just flyin around with this thing, and then you crazy mothers in armor started showing up asking me to join your boy bands. I saw a dude's head impaled by some power ranger's foot spike. Y'all are crazy, leave me outta this! Wait a minute...currently?"

"I was honorably discharged quite some time ago due to..." Adam starts, but is cut off by the snake man.

"Due to his power being too destructive, not by choice. He is one of them, hombre. If he hasn't told you about his armor, then I guess he failed to mention how they left their own to die?"

Adam's eyes go wide, and his mouth agape.

"How...in the world do you know about her? The information related to that mission is heavily classified!"

"Whoa. I'm a dude first of all. Second, I'm getting some seriously bad vibes here guys." Van says. He takes a step back, and his hand starts fondling his necklace.

"Not you, pendejo" the snake man snaps. "Another, similar to you. That is what they do, pull you in, and use you until you are useful no more."

Adam turns to Van, and spreads his arms.

"There was a conflict a long time ago. We didn't know, and we made a horrible mistake...wait a minute…that tattoo…Basilisk!"

"We all have masks, this man, like the others, is adept at hiding behind his" Basilisk sneers. "He preaches peace, while his amigos stain their hands in blood and war. You saw it with the Red Star, no? This guy here is nothing but a Basurero. I will bet he even did the whole 'put his hand on your shoulder' act and told you to call him after you took a breather, am I correct?"

Van starts to back away from Adam, a look of mistrust on his face. The bullet necklace begins to glow with power. Van looks around for places to exit.

"I think I'm gonna go now." Van says.

"Wait!" Adam exclaims. "It's not what you think."

Adam turns to Basilisk, and narrows his eyes.

"Basilisk, stop this now! I know what you are trying to do, you are trying to manipulate this poor guy who is confused and frightened."

Basilisk turns to Van, stepping out of the shadows. He is young, roughly 19, and wearing a tank top and cargo pants. His head is covered with a bandanna, the tassels of which are tipped with rattlesnake rattles.

"Listen pendejo, I get it. The whole burden of responsibility thing. You got true power in your hands. Why not have a little fun?"

Van nods.

Basilisk continues. "You see, the truth is, these guys hate the carefree type. Hard to keep those under control. They aren't your friends, amigo. They are nothing but dogs of the military who want you on a leash so they can exploit your power when needed. You are a pawn and the second you walk out of line, they will kill you. A tool used by the military and then discarded cuando una se hicieron inútiles."

"You know creepy shadow guy? You're right" exclaims Van. "I don't need to be part of any club. Especially when they don't even offer free t-shirts. I'm outta here."

Basilisk's mouth curls into a devilish smirk. Adam growls, then turns to face Van. His eyebrows curve sympathetically.

"Hold on." Adam says, almost pleading. "It's not like that. Please. Let me explain."

Van quickly grasps his necklace, and his eyes begin to glow.

"Silver Bullet!" he roars.

Light streaks down his arms, erupting from his eyes and mouth. Within seconds, the armored Silver Bullet levitates, then begins to fly away.

"Wait! Please!" Adam pleads. "I do not want to have to find you again, let us just..."

"Excuse me?" Bullet says. "Find me again? Alright asshole, you almost got me, but this ends now. I'm not waiting for you to attack me like the other guy."

He rears back his arm, and the wrist flaps open, revealing the thrusters hidden within.

"...oh no." says Adam.

He quickly gets a tight grip on his vest. It glows softly with power.

"Bronze Goliath!"

Light smoothly glides down his arms and up his neck. His eyes and mouth glow softly, and bronze armor plates glide into place along his body. Hundreds of feet of cables wrap tightly around his arms and legs, and the fin of his helmet stands tall, resembling a Roman gladiator's helmet. The Bronze Goliath stands where Adam once was, and crosses his arms just in time to block the attack from the Bullet. Bullet slams into Goliath, rocketing him blocks down the road. Goliath ricochets off of the pavement, and embeds into a car door. He drops to the floor, groans, then gets up. He grabs his chest, coughs violently, and leans against a building.

"I will not fight you." Goliath states. "I only mean that I feel we should resolve this now instead of risking something happening to you."

"Hah!" Van barks. "You should worry about yourself, vest guy."

With a loud pop, Bullet launches at Goliath again, but Goliath rolls out of the way.

"You must stop!" Goliath screams. "There are civilians here! These armors are not toys!"

"Yeah I'd say that too if I were losing."

Bullet lands another punch against Goliath, sending him through another car, into a building.

"I will not fight you!" Goliath demands. "I am not your enemy. Basilisk is a wicked man. He was manipulating..."

In a blur faster than he could see, Bullet zooms past Goliath, as Goliath narrow dodges another attack.

"I told you I was a pacifist." Goliath states. "I do not enjoy fighting, and I will not kill another human being. That was no lie."

"Alright. Then my story is, I'm a magical unicorn princess that breathes fire."

"Please, if this continues, something terrible is going to hap..."

"Shut up and fight!"

Bullet screams, then launches at Goliath and misses, this time connecting with a tall building, hard. A massive chunk of the building jettisons off the back, and a crack shoots up the side of the building. Bullet and Goliath simultaneously say the same thing.

"...oh no..."

Debris from the tumbling building starts to fall, crushing a few cars, and simultaneously landing on civilians. Pedestrians are running around screaming in a panic. An Asian man is screaming, desperately pulling at a stone with blood underneath. Bullet is frozen.

"No! No! STOP FALLING!" he screams. "OH GOD, NO, PLEASE STOP!"

He hears two children's voices, and looks downwards. Two kids are beneath a large shadow, as a gigantic chunk of brick wall hurdles towards them. In a blur of motion, Bullet grabs them both around the waist, then disappears as the section of wall destroys where they were standing. People are falling out of the tilting building. Bullet appears near one of them, grabs him, and places him safely on a rooftop.

"What have I done...?" he says mortified.

Goliath is sprinting towards the building.

"Watch out! I need room!" he commands.

The cables coiled around his arms and legs erupt from his body, extending into the ground. The earth and stone around the cables are immediately mashed up, then absorbed into the cables. The cables begin to form a humongous framework of what looks like a 10-story tall creature. The material travels up the cable shaft, and is immediately projected through tiny vents in the cables. Earthen rock forms around the cables, creating a gigantic, stone golem's limbs and torso. The creature looks like a misshapen gorilla, with Goliath's armor hidden within the chest of the stone golem. Bullet looks on in horror at the creature.

"Oh my god…" he remarks.

The ground quakes as Goliath's titan grabs the falling building, and using his shoulder, leans against it to stand it back up properly. His fingers then dig into the side of the building. Cables emerge from within the stone, lacing in and out of the building's foundation like stitching. More stone, ground, and metal is liquidized into Goliath's cables, then redistributed onto the building itself, rapidly solidifying to provide support. With a loud groan, the building ceases its descent, but Goliath's titan retains its hold on the structure.

"I will stay here as long as it takes for everyone to evacuate to ensure nothing goes amiss," Goliath says, his voice booming from the throat of the titan. "Please hurry!"

The several dozen residents of the building are pouring out of the main entrance, screaming and fleeing in a panic. They look up at Goliath's titan as if it is a monster. Several are snapping photographs as they are running from the scene.

"What have I done...?" Bullet questions. "I didn't mean..."

The titan turns its head to face Bullet on the rooftop.

"I know," Goliath says, "we have all done things that are horrible in their own regards. I am sorry, I tried to prevent this. You were given a gift, and forced into a war you did not understand."

"I...gotta go..."

"No, wait!"

Bullet zooms off. Goliath looks over at the alleyway where Basilisk was, but he is long gone.

"...Basilisk..." Goliath thinks. "What have you done?"


	7. Recoil

*Thanks for reading guys =] Please leave reviews or commentary to help support in any way you can, it's thoroughly appreciated*

RECOIL

The news reporter's voice on the television rings out across the small, dingy apartment.

"It has been two months since the tragic structural defect that led to the collapse of the skyscraper in the financial district. The citizens of Avalon mourn the loss of nearly 12 people, although we thank the miracle that the building happened to be vacant at the time."

Van is lying, slouched, on a faded, green armchair. His eyes are wide and bloodshot as he watches the report. He groans as he massages his ribs, as the bruised muscles strain to move and heal. With subtle effort, he leans forward, his oblique muscles once again protesting in pain, and his hand drops to the handle of the chair. It seems worn, and most likely non-functional, and the fabric is barely holding together. There are dozens of rips and tears along the sides and foot rest. Van is wearing a pitted and torn undershirt to match his couch. He leans over to a nearby table, and grabs an open beer bottle off of it, leaving a new, pristine condensation ring to match several others. He takes a long gulp of the beer, and leans back in the chair, staring at the rotating fan. The bullet necklace is lying in between the crevices of his pectoral muscles, but even the amulet seems worn out and defeated.

His apartment is a mess. Clothes, beer containers of various brands, shapes, and sizes litter the floor. Take out boxes from seemingly hundreds of different restaurants are scattered about.

A loud drip breaks Van out of his stupor, and with a grunt, and seemingly Herculean effort, gets out of his chair. It groans in protest. He tosses the beer bottle across the room. It rebounds off of a wall, and into a garbage can, clanking with the other bottles within. He walks over to the sink and turns the handle to stop the dripping, but the handle creaks, immobile. Van's eyes narrow, and he puts more effort into the torque. With a loud "SNAP", the handle rips off of the sink. Van screams in frustration.

"Screw it, I like the noise anyway!" he yells at the sink. "Yeah, you heard me. I ENJOY IT! DRIP DRIP DRIP! MY FAVORITE SONG! Stupid sink and its stupid…water."

He opens the fridge, grabs another bottle, and walks over to the armchair again. Right as he plops down into the plump cushion, a creaking mechanical noise interrupts his peace from above. The fan halts to a stop, a small whisper of smoke spurting out from the mechanism within. Van's shoulders drop as he looks at it.

"Alright, got the hint" he yells at seemingly no one. "I need some air anyway."

He throws open his window. The latch misses, and snaps off, the window shutting violently. Van grunts in frustration, and holds open the window as he wiggles his body out. He very ungracefully tumbles out of the window.

"Silver Bullet!" he screams whilst tumbling in midair.

With a pop, a streak of silver rockets across the sky, leaving a contrail in its wake.

Miles away, a military compound is seemingly in the middle of nowhere. There are miles of desert in three directions around it, with its back to a mountainside. The shadows from the sun behind the mountaintop cover the base in a dense shade that make it barely visible even to those who know it's there. The compound is painted in desert camouflage colors, so that it blends in with the mountain. There are several hundred feet of runways in all directions from the base, and a direct railway that seems to lead straight into the city, even though the city seems far enough away to be a mirage. On a small, inlaid plaque built into the wall reads the word "S.A.N.C.t.U.M."

Within the base, dozens of soldiers are moving around within the grey, metallic hallways, calmly, but with purpose. Their boots echo down each of the halls. There are endless rooms within, each with several monitors, keeping track of global events, talks, and domestic issues.

A stocky, older man is wandering the halls. He is in a wrinkled, blue uniform, which also bears the SANCtUM insignia next to a dark nametag which reads "Sprigs". He has a thick, silver Van Gogh style moustache and beard, and wispy peppered hair still clings to his receding hairline. On his left wrist, he wears a pristine golden watch, the reflective material shining brightly off of the fluorescent lightning. In contrast, his right wrist bears a worn, bronze sundial.

Sprigs is walking down a long hallway with nearly no doors except for one, in the exact middle of the hallway. He turns a right corner, and steps into the enormous main control room. The entire wall ahead of him bears hundreds of monitors. Many of them are showing disasters around the world. At a quick glance, he reads "Freak Dust Storm in Middle East" and "Surprise Flooding in Thailand" on the screens before scanning his head around the room. He notices a blonde woman with incredible posture at one of the control panels. She has two needles through the bun in her hair, along with what appear to be two sewing needles she is wearing as earrings. She is talking calmly into the microphone ahead of her, her British accent cutting through the noise in the room.

"Deacon, I am your handler for this operation." She says. Her voice is soft, but has a sharp edge to it. "Please listen to my suggestions."

Without turning around, she addresses the man behind her.

"Hello Lieutenant" she says, pleasantly.

"Good evening, Urchin." He replies. "It really is terrifying sometimes, that ability of yours." He chuckles to himself. "Has there been any progress?"

She smiles. "It's just years of practice, sir." She replies. "And none, unfortunately. The lead was a dead end. Samael is still nowhere to be found."

Another familiar voice chimes in from the side of the room, as John walks over, leaning against a support pillar. His dark brown hair is combed over. He is dressed very casually, in a tight, black T-shirt, and jeans. On his right hand is a black, fingerless glove, with a brightly polished, metallic star object inlaid into the material.

"And the supposed sighting of Basilisk from an anonymous source?" asks John. "He's been underground for years, with only rumors of his appearance. Why now? And also, who was able to recognize him enough for a tip off?"

"He is a snake in the grass." Urchin replies. "Unable to be seen until he strikes. IF the sighting is legitimate, that means it was intentional. And the source did not recognize him. We were simply given a report that mentioned "a young, Latino man in his teens with a snake tattoo on his arm." Those are as common as a woman getting a butterfly tattoo."

Johns eyes narrow.

"Maybe…" he replies.

Sprigs interjects.

"What of the civilian amulet wielder, the Silver Bullet?" Sprigs asks. "Has he made any move for us to consider him a threat?"

"We have located him," Urchin replies. "However, he appears to be in a stupor after his incident. He is in a near catatonic state of depression, barely even functional. His bank account is laughably low, and the fact that he still affords rent is a miracle. Confronting him in this state would only shatter his fragile mental state. All three of us have made that mistake before, only to lose a potential ally forever, let's not make that error again."

"I agree" replies John.

"Should he show any sign of hostile intent" Sprigs commands. "I don't care how nice he seems. We don't need any more enemies. Remove him, permanently."

John and Urchin reply simultaneously.

"Yes sir."

Sprigs continues. "For all we know, he could be doing something brilliant and malicious as we speak!"

Back in Avalon, Bullet is swerving through the air, narrowly dodging an airborne pigeon. He is very clearly hammered.

"I…I didn't mean…" he hiccups. "It. Ugh, that tasted awful. I didn't mean to kill them." He screams, then grabs his head. "I can't do this. More beer. Beer is good. Beer."

He lands in an alley behind the "S" bar very ungracefully. The thrusters shove any paper objects away with a blast of air, and his boots make a loud, metallic "THUD" upon landing, sending rats scattering off in all directions.

"Silver Bullet" he says.

The armor glows, and wisps of silvery light rush towards a spot on his chest. Where the Bullet once stood, now is a very drunk and disheveled Van, clutching his amulet. He stumbles out the front of the bar. The street lamp outside burns his eyes, so Van raises his hand to block it. As he stumbles down the street, his vision becomes hazy, and he begins to mumble to himself.

"I didn't…this isn't happening…what the hell…"

A couple is walking towards him, their arms locked, and they seem to be laughing. Van's eyes widen, and he flattens himself against the wall, frantically staring at them. The man covers the woman, and they hastily walk past the lunatic. Van looks right at another man walking by, then across the street at a woman checking the time. His eyes are darting around, scanning every passing person on the darkened street. A man walks by, something gold around his neck glinting off of the ambient street light. Van leaps at him, grabbing the man by the shirt.

"Let me go you nutjob!" screams the man.

"What is that on your neck!?" screams Van, "Where did you get it!? Does it talk to you!? What's your amulet name!?"

The man shoves Van hard, sending the drunken man sprawling to the floor. He straightens the golden cross necklace hanging around his neck back underneath his collar, then continues walking hastily away.

"Assholes out tonight," scoffs the man.

Van slowly gets to his feet, leaning against a nearby brick wall for support. He rubs his shoulder where it impacted the floor.

"This isn't real, this isn't real, THIS ISN'T REAL!" screams Van.

A woman walking with her young daughter grasping her hand walks by. The little girl runs over to Van, but the woman yanks on her arm. The girl is holding a teddy bear. Van looks at it and screams.

"DOES THE BEAR TALK TO YOU!?"

The little girl laughs. "He's funny mommy."

"Don't talk to him," says the mother, "he's sick, leave him alone."

Van sits into a ball and begins to shake.

The next morning, Van wakes up, groaning. His head is splitting from the enormous hangover. His shoulder is throbbing from the impact, a large bruise covering the area. He rolls over, attempting to stand, but his feet slip on some unknown liquid on the floor and he crashes onto the wood paneling, the blanket sliding off of the bed on top of him.

"Ow," he says monotonously.

A hand slowly rises from behind the bedside table, grabbing the bottle of Alka Seltzer tablets sitting beside the lamp. From his position on the floor, he grabs a nearby glass of half-finished water, drops the tablets in, then chugs the glass. He then pulls the blankets up higher, falling asleep where he fell.

Several hours later, Van walks out the front door to his apartment. The brown t-shirt he's wearing is heavily wrinkled, and the worn pants have several holes in them, however, his hair is perfectly spiked. He is walking slowly, his head aimed down at the ground, dragging his feet.

"I'm not a bad person…"

As he is walking, something falling catches his eye, and before he can even look, his hand is already extended, grabbing the bag mid-fall. The elderly woman smiles at him.

"Thank you young man," she says, "so quick!"

"No problem," replies Van, "can I help you with anything else?"

"No, I'm fine," she replies.

"Seriously, anything? Directions? I can carry those bags. Let me help you!"

The woman hastily gets into her car and speeds off.

"Fine! I hope the next one drops on your foot!" screams Van after the fleeting car. "Fuck that, I did nothing wrong. NOTHING! You all hear me!?"

Everyone around Van takes a step away, continuing wherever they were headed.

"Don't need to deal with this bullshit. I'm gonna pound all those shiny assholes. Wait…"

Back at SANCtUM, Sprigs is in an isolated room with the lights off, typing into a computer. He sticks a flash drive into the USB port, dragging a folder across the monitor, onto the drive. He removes the drive, tucking it into his pants pocket, then throws a jacket over his uniform, and hastily leaves. He walks into the garage, past John's bike, into a polished, black Aston Martin.

The car speeds off into the night, the road mostly empty. He opens the window, taking a deep breath of the air.

The car rolls into a deserted train station parking lot, and Sprigs gets out, looking over his shoulders. He has parked in the area outside of the streetlamps. He carefully walks around the side of the building, and inserts a key into a locked door labeled "Security Only: Do Not Enter." The key turns, and the door creaks open. Sprigs steps inside.

The train station appears to be vacant, aside from various creatures, picking at the remains of trash left behind. Sprigs walks across the vacated floor, over to the opposite wall, where a row of lockers are sitting. Sprigs opens one of the lockers and places the flash drive inside. He quietly shuts the door, then hastily walks back outside, into his car, speeding off into the night.

From the trees behind where his car was parked, blue eyes flash, and a lock of blonde hair drops down across Urchin's face. She blows it back into place.


	8. Move

*So I got a little excited about the influx of readers lately, and decided to release another chapter quickly. Or maybe I'm just hopped up on caffeine.*

MOVE

Van is lounging on his sofa, laying amongst dozens of beer cans. The creaky fan above him has the cadence down every quarter second, causing Van's eye to twitch from aggravation. He screams and throws a beer can at it. He lays back down with his knees curled up to his chest as he stares at the television.

"Bullshit amulet," he says, "don't need to be in some stupid war. I was just trying to help people. They don't want it? Screw em!"

Suddenly, the power in his apartment goes out, shrouding it in shadows, even mid-day. Van screams, then gets to his feet, flipping the light switch repeatedly.

"Now what!?" he roars.

As if answering his question, a loud knock at the door vibrates through his apartment.

Van grumbles, then stands up, stumbling to the door, feeling his way around the room. He fondles the doorknob for a moment before opening it. An older man, slightly overweight, wearing a sweater is standing before him in the doorway, his thick wire frames residing ow on the bridge of his nose. He stands up straight, standing roughly five inches shorter than Van, and clears his throat.

"Mr. Vance," he exclaims, your electricity bill was late, again. And I see that you have lost your job."

"Yeah yeah, workin' on it."

"Well, be that as it may, you are consistently late with payments, and I cannot stand for this! I will need you to leave at the end of next month…which I also expect payment for!"

Van looks baffled. "…So, I pay you in full, every time. Little late here and there, but I don't ever skip em. I help you out when I can with moving people in and out. I even fed your damn dog while you were away…and you're evicting me?"

The little man begins to sweat. "Yes, you are a delinquent, and I will not be the haven for your delinquent activities."

"I'm drinking dude…not cooking meth."

"Well…I'm sorry."

"Na, you're not. Giving me two months you said? Cool, then get the HELL out of my apartment for the next two months!"

Van slams the door in his face.

"FUCK!"

The "S" bar seems more dreary than usual. The typical crowd is scarce, with the exception of a few men in biker jackers sitting at the counter. In the corner of the counter resides Van, looking more disheveled than usual. He has a dense growth of stubble across his jaw, and his clothes are heavily wrinkled, spotted with various liquid stains. The aroma of his unwashed body repels any nearby patrons. His black eyes seem glossed over as he brings the glass of whiskey up to his lips, the liquor no longer burning his throat. The bartender walks over, and Van raises his eyes to meet hers

"Hey, listen," the woman says as she leans over the counter, "I've seen you come in here for years with that shit-eating grin of yours…but you look like shit. You alright?"

"I'm fine," says Van, "another…please."

The bartender sighs. "Alright."

She walks away. A man sits down beside Van. The television above is set to a news forecast.

The reporter on tv is speaking into a microphone. "Construction has began, attempting to rebuild after the tragic collapse of the skyscraper in Avalon weeks ago due to a structural defect."

His voice drones on as Van watches with laser focus while taking another swig of his drink. The man to his left nudges him.

"Messed up shit, right?" he asks.

Van raises an eyebrow. "Hmm?"

"Damn engineers, can't do their job. Killin buncha people."

"Yeah? Maybe it was a god damn accident…dick!" Van snaps back.

The man stands up, throwing his stool to the floor.

"Watch your mouth, you little shit!"

Van finishes his glass and stands up, bringing his face towards the man's.

"Or what, prick!?" he snarls.

Outside of the bar, in the alleyway beside its side door, the man punches Van across the jaw. The pain ripples through his face, rattling his teeth. He spits out a glob of blood, then grins. Van screams, then swings at the man, jabbing him twice in the stomach.

"You hit like a pussy!" yells the man.

"Yeah?" replies Van.

He grabs his necklace.

"Silver Bullet!"

Van's eyes ignite with white fire, and the lines race down his body. Armor slinks over his arms and body, locking into place. The light resides, leaving the Silver Bullet standing in Van's place. The man looks terrified.

"What in the…"

Before he can finish, Bullet's arm is already crushing against his neck, he rears back, then punches the man in the chest. The man's body rips through the door to the bar, tumbling through the rickety chairs and tables set up on the main dining floor. The patrons of the bar look over just in time to zip a blur of speed as Bullet zips inside and grabs the man, lifting him above his head. His arms are shaking.

"I could break you so easily," Bullet hisses, spit flying out between his teeth. "One hit would shatter your bones!"

"STOP!" screams the bartender.

Bullet looks to his right at the bartender. She is shaking and nearly in tears, terrified at Bullet. Bullet looks up at the man, who has a similar reaction. He looks around the remaining bar area. Everyone is backed against a wall, dialing 911 on their phones, or just shaking in fear. Bullet slowly lowers the man to his feet, then backs away, looking at his hands.

"I…I'm sorry…" he says, "I don't know what's going on…I don't…I'm…I gotta go!"

He disappears in a blur.

Van is stumbling along the mulch-laden track of the Avalon City Park. The overcast sky seems moments away from ripping open, pouring rain down across the city. His feet are dragging across the floor, flicking wood chips every which way. Suddenly, footsteps come stomping closer to him from behind, and Van snaps around in a panic. The woman steps aside from him, momentarily startled as she continues on her evening jog, earbuds bouncing with each step. Van has his arms up in a defensive position, and he is breathing rapidly.

"I'll never use it again," says Van, "make this go away, and I'll never transform again."

He continues walking, finally coming upon a wooden bench. He sits down slowly, the wood creaking underneath his weight. A man jogs by, his dog trotting along beside him. The dog growls as it passes Van, who instinctively grabs his necklace. The two pass by, and Van looks down at his hand, immediately releasing the amulet. He pulls his knees up to his chest, drops his face into his legs, and begins to cry. Moments pass, several sets of feet walking by before one finally walks over.

"Van?" asks a woman's voice.

Van looks up, his eyes blurry from both the tears and the sun. The face comes into view to reveal Sarah, who looks a combination of terrified and concerned.

"Sarah?" asks Van, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm…going for a walk. Well, it was nice seeing you, I'll…"

"No please!"

Van leaps to his feet. Sarah leaps backwards, startled.

"Please Sarah," begs Van, "I did some stupid shit, and now I'm trying to fix it, and everything I do is just, wrong. I try and try and try, I help one person, and accidentally hurt another one. I don't know what to do, and I need help."

Sarah bites her lip, then puts her hand on Van's shoulder.

"You really freaked me out back there…on the site. You saved my life…and I can't thank you enough…but I don't know what you did…and you've gotten yourself into a lot of trouble. You're a good guy, Van…but I can't be involved in…whatever it is you're in. Like I said before, you're too headstrong. You can't leap into situations headfirst like this. Slow down…"

"I CAN'T!" screams Van. "That building collapse recently? That was me! I messed up and killed a lot of people by mistake! All I do is think about it! All I do is remember the people…remember them crying. I did that, and I've been trying to fix it, over and over. I keep moving and moving and moving, gotta keep moving, because if I stop to think about what's happened, and what's going on, about what a failure I am, and what I've done…I don't think I'll be able to move anymore."

Van collapses into the park bench.

"Van…I wish I could help you…just know that you're not a bad person. If what you say is true…then I would do what I could to make the rest of my life worthwhile…good luck."

Sarah walks off, looking over her shoulder at Van as he once again puts his face into his hands.


	9. Time to Shine

*Okay so apparently, I've been posting this on the wrong site, so I will continue to update this every Saturday of course, but in case it gets taken down, the link to it on FictionPress is in my profile, as well as below. Thanks for following all, please continue to support the story, I love writing it. As always, any comments / questions / concerns, feel free to message! And sorry to for the confusion*

s/3317271/1/A-Chromatic-Soul

TIME TO SHINE

The roar of John's bike is reverberating through the city as he weaves between the cars at 80mph. The star on his glove flashes red, and he leans left to dodge an opening door from a double-parked Toyota.

"He's still on the same path, John," chimes in Urchin's voice through his earpiece, "he's headed right for the bridge."

"You think a wielder is stuck in traffic?" asks John.

"Perhaps, but we have no data on another wielder appearing. And the bridge itself has no value."

"Not exactly. That bridge is the only convenient way out of the city. Could be cutting someone off from escaping."

"Perhaps. Be careful."

"Always am. Going silent."

The bike skids around another corner, and John revs the engine as it hurdles towards the towering cables of the approaching suspension bridge.

Van is leaning against the wall to the "S" bar, waiting for them to open. His eyes look bloodshot, and the growth of beard suggests that he hasn't shaved in weeks. His white t-shirt is heavily wrinkled, and has various stains of an eclectic range of colors scattered about. The bartender walks around to the front of the bar from the alley and scans Van up and down.

"You look like shit," she says.

Van looks at her slowly.

"Just knock me on my ass so that I can sleep," he says sadly.

"I heard what happened last time," she says, "you gonna be a problem? You've been comin' here for awhile and never been an issue. I'm guessing you're just goin' through a tough time, yes?"

"Yeah. I won't be a problem. I just need a drink to turn my brain off."

She nods. "Alright then."

She unlocks the door, and they both step inside.

The suspension bridge stands tall above Avalon. Over two miles long, the bridge connects both halves of the city, cutting transportation time into nearly a third by cutting over the bay. However, traffic seems to be at a halt. A loud explosion sends out a shockwave, and civilians take off running and screaming, away from the center of the bridge. Cars swerve to avoid colliding with the halted vehicles, trying to peer over their steering wheels to see what is holding up traffic. A man in a business suit is on the phone, and gets out of his car to look, narrowly being missed by an errant rocket.

Star is hiding, crouched, behind a large, black van. He is slinking towards the front of the van, looking underneath it at another wielder, who is standing in the middle of an empty clearing, laughing hysterically. His indigo colored armor looks like it was thrown together from an old pipe organ. There are several pipes sticking out of the armor in seemingly random directions, with steam fuming out of each of the vents. His torso, legs, and helmet have dense armor, protecting him from the intense heat of the steam being ejected from his armor. On his forearms are dozens of small, rocket-like projections that are being fed into a pipes by steam pressure. He aims another one around and fires the rocket at a nearby car, blowing it up in a tornado of flame.

"COME OUT STAR!" screams the indigo wielder obnoxiously. "I CAN'T SEE YOU, SO I THINK I'LL JUST KEEP GUESSING WHICH ONE OF THESE RANDOM PEOPLE YOU MUST BE!"

"You have one chance, Aeolipile!" Star replies. "Tell me everything you know! Are you working for him!? What were you looking for in that factory!? And what is his location!?"

"AHAHA, LIKE YOU SCARE ME WORSE THAN HE DOES!" Aeolipile replies.

"Always yelling, how irritating." Star grunts as he thinks to himself. "What was his profile again? Obnoxious behavior, explosive personality, makes rash decisions. Subconsciously targeting the brightest cars, the red one on the left will be his next target."

Star rolls right just as Aeolipile turns left. He opens his hand palm down again, and his wrist mounted laser lights up with heat. The turret fires a superheated beam into the truck behind Aeolipile. Simultaneously, the vents on his back seemingly power up, sucking in massive amounts of air, and several flaps open up on his body, revealing the tips of tiny missiles of his own. Aeolipile snaps around upon seeing the beam, and raises his arm quickly, but it is too late. The moment he faces Star, several heat-seeking missiles are en-route towards the burnt truck, with Aeolipile caught right in the way of the salvo. The missiles slam into Aeolipile and the truck alike, sending Aeolipile ricocheting down the street, bouncing off of a car, leaving an enormous dent in its side. He groans, and stumbles to his feet, right as two red beams slice a steel support beam in thirds above his head.

"NICE MOVE!" Aeolipile screams. "TOO BAD THAT WON'T BE ENOUGH TO..."

He doesn't finish his sentence before the support beam above him gives way, and Aeolipile gets crushed from the falling beam above. His fingers twitch, and he moans.

"Urchin, come in." Star says. "This was, by far, the most irritating wielder yet, but I've captured the Indigo Aeo..."

Aeolipile screams, and hundreds of rockets begin to fire in every which direction, impacting every car and person within a 50 foot radius. The rockets slam into support beams and cables alike, and the bridge groans from the lost support. The 50 foot sections of the bridge begins to sink.

"Oh shit!" snarls Star.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the bridge, Van is seemingly attempting to rid the "S" bar of every last drop of alcohol. An impressively more disheveled looking man than Van is sitting beside him, with his hand on Van's shoulder.

"You…you're a great guy!" the man slurs out before taking another sip of beer.

"I am," agrees Van, nodding. "I'm pretty fffff…I'm pretty awesome. And so what if that building fell, I…you're a great guy too!"

They both laugh and Van takes another large sip.

The tattooed bartender sits across from him, and stares at Van, whose eyes look sunken, and his mouth looks slack-jawed.

"Hey, give me your keys," she demands. "You ain't driving home."

"Me?" he asks, then laughs. "Naaaa, I drive to block and jump and whoosh and then I just fly."

The bartender raises her eyebrow.

"Right…" she says. "I'm gonna call you a cab. Just sit tight for a minute."

Van stands up, nearly falling over. He straightens out the barstool, and uses it for support to stand.

"It's cool!" Van says, waving his hand, then grabbing his necklace. "Silver…bubble…" He bursts out laughing. "Bunny? Hmm…bullet?"

His necklace emits light through his fingers, covers Van in blindingly bright light, and the Bullet armor encases Van. He crouches, the thrusters ignite, and he rockets out the front door right as someone enters, launching over their shoulder into the sky. The entering customer, all patrons within, Van's drinking buddy, and the bartender stare on in shock.

"What in the world!?" the bartender screams. "He's hammered at four in the afternoon...and I'm the one seeing shit. I don't get it."

The man who entered looks at her and shrugs.

"Whatever he drank" the man says, "I want two."

Bullet is twirling around in circles in the sky.

"Whoo!" he screams in elation.

He leans back, aiming upwards, and flies into a double loop de loop.

"Whoooooooooooooooooooooooo!" he screams again. "This is so co...ugh...I don't feel well. Ooh, what's going on down there!?"

He looks downwards, noticing random spurts of flame, and flying cables on the bridge below.

"That looks exciting!" he says. "Everyone is gonna want a piece of...hiccup...me! Yeah, I'm aweswhoaaa."

Bullet rocks left and right in his trajectory, dodging a flinging cable easily, and an errant rocket. As he nears the pavement, he looks down and sees Star dodging rockets while trying to clear a path for panicked civilians. Star leans back to dodge another rocket, and aims his left arm's cutting laser to slice a car in half, opening a path for a trapped family to escape the chaos. Overhead, several rockets fly towards some other escaping civilians, and Star quickly slices into a car ahead of the projectiles with the beams, and fires some of his heat-seekers at it, causing the car to flip upwards. The rockets collide with the car instead of the people. Immediately after, he snaps around, takes aim behind Aeolipile, and shoots a car's fuel tank. The beam slices right into the gasoline canister, and the liquid ignites, causing the car to explode, launching Aeolipile away.

"Lightning!" screams Star into his transmitter. "Are you in the area!? I need your assis..."

Bullet shimmers into existence right in front of Star's face.

"Hey buddy!" Van says excitedly.

Star gasps and stumbles backwards, sighs, then seems to focus.

"Bullet!" he says. "Help me evacuate these people at once! I can't focus on stopping Aeolipile while covering everyone. You showed up at the perfect..."

"I don't feel so...hyurggg!" Van vomits profusely within his armor.

"...are you drunk?" asks Star.

"Ugh! I threw up and it's everywhere in here! Go away, go away!"

Bullet shoves at his leg, as if he could push the vomit away from outside of the armor, then shoots into the air.

"It's going down my leg!"

Star stares in disbelief.

"You've gotta be kidding me. Bullet, focus! I need your help. Save these people!"

"Got it!"

Bullet flies straight down, into a car. He lays there, defeated.

"Ow."

"Pathetic!" roars Star.

"Why bother," groans Bullet, "I'll just screw up again."

"Unbelievable. Redeem yourself for your mistake, don't be this pathetic mess of a person. You killed all those people, do you want that to be your legacy!?"

"Hey..." Van retorts. "Shut up! Jerk."

Star dodges another attack, and shoots another beam in return, causing Aeolipile to dive behind a car. He is screaming something unintelligible.

"Look at me!" Star commands. "We all saw the footage of the wreckage. I know you can do it. You have a hero inside of you, and we all saw it the day you leapt off the building's frame to save that woman. I believe in you…" John frowns for a moment, contemplating his next words. "Besides, I think Aeolipile's weapons are faster than you anyway."

A car explodes in front of a mother and her daughter. The body of the car is hurdling towards them. The little girl screams, and the mother's eyes go wide as she grabs her daughter, putting her body in between the girl and the vehicle.

"Oh no!" yells Star.

The air wavers, and Bullet's fist collides with the car, launching it over the guard rails, into the water. He grabs the mother and daughter and disappears, reappearing with them both safely far away from the battle. He quickly waves with two fingers, then disappears again, reappearing by Star.

"Faster than me my ass!" he says proudly. "I can do thish...too. Hyurg!"

With a powerful convulsion, Van vomits within the Bullet armor once again.

"Ugh, I can smell it..." he groans.

"Whatever, you're doing great, Bullet" yells Star. "Focus, you can do this. One mistake doesn't make you a bad guy. Every single one of us has done an irredeemable act in our lifetimes. Here is your chance to repent. Learn from your mistakes."

A nearby cop is attempting to brace himself against the rumbling on the bridge. He yanks with both arms on a jammed car door, but to no avail. Within, there is a man desperately pounding on the door, trying to escape. He is screaming for help. Above, the cop is unaware of an approaching tension cable, falling towards his head. Star's beam slices the cable in half, then rips through an approaching rocket, causing it to fall harmlessly apart. Bullet zips it, punches through the door handle, then rips it off the car frame, allowing the cop to pull the man out. Bullet grabs them both and disappears right as the two halves of the cable slam into the ground where they once stood. Dozens of Star's beams intercept a hailstorm of rockets as Bullet appears and disappears beside civilians, grabbing then and transporting them to safety. Star's back is turned, sniping several more rockets from the air when an errant projectile aims right for his back. Bullet rears back, zips beside the rocket, then slams his fist down upon it, crushing it harmless downwards into the street. Star turns around, and upon looking down at the rocket, immediately recognizes what happened, then nods. Bullet appears where he has been dropping off other civilians, and placing two more down. He then boosts up into the air, roughly thirty feet above the people. The civilians start clapping and cheering for him. The cop and the man try to stand up straight, but their legs are shaking. Bullet salutes.

"Close one, occifer." Says Bullet.

"Thank you…wait, are you drunk?" asks the cop.

"Bullet, move!" screams Star.

A rocket aimed directly at him is hurdling towards his position in the air.

"Huh?" he asks. "Oh crap."

He does not have time to evade. The rocket is only a few feet from him.

"Shitshitshit," Van thinks to himself. "What do I do!?"

His heart begins to race, and his adrenaline spikes. Bullet clenches his fist, preparing to take the impact when seams appear on Bullet's sides, and auxiliary boosters roar to life from his abdomen. Bullet disappears, and the rocket harmlessly whooshes through the air where he once was. He reappears on the street, in the crowd, leaning on the cops shoulder, completely evading the projectile.

"Well, that's new," he says aloud. "Damn…this thing would be so cool, minus all the murder-y people..."

"YOU'RE FAST!" screams Aeolipile. "YOU'RE A FUN TARGET! TRY TO DODGE THIS!"

Steam gathers like a compressor into Aeolipile, and suddenly screams like a teakettle. Hundreds of rockets explode out of his body, aimed directly at the drunk, silvery blob hovering above the people. He easily dodges three of them, and twirls around another suspension cable to evade two more. He turns around to dodge more, but one of the micro-rockets nicks his shoulder, erupting on impact, setting him ablaze and hurdling to the ground. He yells in pain, and grabs his head.

"Okay, that part sucks too," he groans. "Ugh. At least that sobered me up. Why do I smell like...oh fuck me."

The section of the bridge finally gives way, crumbling hundreds of feet into the bay below. No pedestrians were anywhere near the crash site, and the rest of the bridge remains intact. Bullet looks around for Star and Aeolipile, but they are both nowhere to be seen. He notes a young man on a motorcycle with a strange glove driving through the pileup, off the bridge.

"Man, you always have some crazy asshole driving through his shit," he says, annoyed.

Aeolipile has also seemingly disappeared. The people standing where Bullet and Star rescued them all peer over the edge, watching as the remaining pieces crumble into the water. The whir of sirens blare as cop cars and ambulances finally begin to arrive.

Bullet sighs, then relaxes his body. "Alright, if my tab is ridiculous because I missed happy hour, I'm finding the vest guy and punching him in the nuts."

He flies above the crowd.

"Hey guys, I think you're safe now. I'm out, lat…"

Before he can finish, the cop interrupts him.

"You saved us!" the cop yells. "C'mon guys, give the guy a hand! We got a real hero here!"

The crowd explodes in cheers and applause. Bullet stares at them, speechless. Within his armor, he jaw is wide open, and his eyes tear up. He sniffles, then shakes his head, and looks at the screen in front of his face. On his monitor, the screen reads 52%.

"Guess that's how much power I have left," he wonders. "Trust me guys, I ain't a hero."

He spins around.

"Wait!" yells the cop. "What's your name!?"

"Umm" replies Bullet, then he laughs. "I can't really say, but the color of my armor, plus bullet."

"Silver Bullet?"

Bullet points his finger at the cop, and makes a firing motion.

"Bingo."

Bullet flies off into the distance, trying to be somber, but he can't help but grin a little bit.

"Well," he thinks. "It's a start."

Off in the distance, John is leaning against his bike, watching the people react through a pair of binoculars. He watches as Bullet shoots off into the sky amidst the cheering crowd. He smiles.

"Not bad, Bullet..." he says.

Urchin is watching the news feed. It is a video of Bullet, shot through a phone camera, waving to the crowd as he flies off. A woman then turns the phone around and screams into the microphone, causing Urchin to back away in disgust and turn off the feed. She turns to Sprigs.

"Well, we've been bloody wrong before," she admits.

Sprigs grunts.

"John" she continues. "Stay hidden. Guard him. He's going to be a target, since unlike the rest of us, he isn't very…subtle."

"Understood" he replies.

A soldier runs over to Urchin. He seems flustered and out of breath, indicating that he just sprinted across the entire facility.

"Ma'am, permission to speak confidential information!?" the man half asks and shouts.

"Yes." She replies kindly.

"Ma'am, Claymore's reports are in. Target has been eliminated, all four of them, including all of the accompanying guards. No prisoners to interrogate. Still no clues as to where Mimic is recruiting all of these wielders, although Claymore mentioned something about one of them speaking a Middle Eastern dialect."

"I'm sure those were his exact words," she sighs. "Always a trail of blood whenever he is sent on a mission. It can't be helped I suppose."

The soldier looks up at the monitor featuring Bullet's rescue on a loop.

"I know it's not my place," he begins, "but I don't think the Silver Bullet should be considered hostile. We need all the help we can get, and anyone under similar circumstances would do the same. I mean, haven't every one of us done something we're ashamed of in our past?"

"You know nothing of that, son," Sprigs says with authority.

Urchin nods her head. "I've known many a good man to go corrupt. We've seen it with our own eyes. There is a thin line between evil deeds and evil men."

"Agreed," replies Sprigs. "We need to speak with the Commander."


End file.
